Have You Ever Crashed Out Because ADHD Makes Life So. Dang. Hard?
This is a real story about a recent crashout I experienced, and I want to share it with you for two reasons:
If you can relate, I want to normalize this kind of experience by being vulnerable and sharing my own.
If you had otherwise loving parents but your neurodivergent needs went unmet, I want to validate that two things can be true at the same time: they could have been doing their best, and you still deserved to have more of your needs met.
Leading Up to the Crashout
For the past couple of months, my family has been trying to find the right combination of medications and lifestyle changes to meet some of our ADHD, anxiety, and autism needs. This has involved about six medication changes or tweaks, multiple doctor’s appointments each month, countless trips back and forth to the pharmacy and the school nurse, and more discarded pills than I want to acknowledge.
On top of all that, our household has been hit with not one, not two, but three illnesses—and a broken limb—in the past few weeks.
About a month ago, we had another medication tweak. I only remembered this when it was time for the follow-up appointment with the doctor to see how that change was working.
The Ways My Neurodivergence Made It All Worse
My issues with executive functioning make it really, really hard to remember appointments, get to the pharmacy, and overcome any obstacle that pops up along the way.
If I’ve decided I’m going to the pharmacy after work and something interrupts that plan, it’s likely I’ll struggle to get myself there any other day that week.
If my pharmacy is out of stock and I need to visit a different one, my rigidity kicks in—and suddenly I want to throw in the towel and give up.
If my routine changes unexpectedly, I get completely unraveled, and it takes me a while to get my bearings again.
If I get sick, I have a hard time resting. I wait too long to ask for help. I become understimulated, lonely, and out of sync with my routine—often leading to a spiral or two.
The Perfect Storm
A combination of my usual struggles and being sick for two straight weeks created the perfect storm: just the right mix of stress and vulnerability to make one more obstacle unbearable.
I felt deep guilt and shame about it taking me two to three weeks to get my kids’ new prescription filled—and even more guilt that it took me another week to bring it to the school with the doctor’s note so the nurse could give the afternoon dose.
A month after my kiddo had advocated for himself, asking for a medication update, I finally—finally—brought his medication to the school… only to be told they couldn’t accept it. The doctor had filled out the paperwork, signed it, but forgot to print her name.
All at once, the entire month of not being good enough, not feeling well enough, not showing up enough, not being productive enough came crashing down on me. I left the school in tears.
I screamed and cried in the car over how hard it is to meet our neurodivergent kids’ needs as neurodivergent parents. I cried over not having anyone fight this hard to meet my needs. I cursed at myself, said too many cruel words to myself for struggling.
I crashed out.
The Release
But once it was all out—once I’d cried and yelled to my husband for several minutes straight about how hard it is to function sometimes—it was like a release. Someone had opened the pressure valve and let out everything I’d been holding in for weeks.
I gathered myself, called the doctor’s office, and started the process of getting a corrected form. I went about my day. I even fit another trip to the school into my schedule to finally hand the medication over to the nurse—a task that had felt impossible just days before.
Sometimes, a little crashout ends up being exactly what the doctor ordered.